


A Familiar Set of Lines

by Shippershape



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Sciles is my brotp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 19:14:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8221834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shippershape/pseuds/Shippershape
Summary: Stiles gets a tattoo that Lydia's seen before.





	

“I can’t believe you did this,” Lydia murmurs, leaning down to more closely examine Stiles’ ankle. He huffs a sigh, voice defensive when he replies.

“I told you I was going to.”

She hums an acknowledgment, because _that_ is true, but she hadn’t believed him. Stiles hates needles. No way he’d actually run off and get a tattoo.

But there it is, black and a little red, two bands of slightly different thickness circling his calf, a perfect match to the one their alpha wears around his bicep. She reaches out to trace it, stopping herself at the last minute, remembering that it’s probably sore.

“Did it hurt?” She asks, looking up at him, not sure whether to be angry or impressed. Stiles squints down at her.

“No.”

Her lips quirk upward, and she straightens from her crouch, still only coming up to just above his shoulders. She doesn’t wear heels when they’re at home, kind of likes the way he towers over her. It makes her feel safe.

“You’re so full of it,” she laughs, grinning up at him. “Did you cry?”

He stiffens.

“No.”

Her face softens.

“Maybe a little?” She prompts, distracted at the way his bottom lip sticks out when he’s pouting. The boy has a mouth on him, after all. He sighs, shoulders slumping.

“Okay, maybe a little.”

She lets out a little coo, laughing again, and rocks onto her toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

All pretense gone, he wraps his arms around her, sagging into her touch.

“I’m just kind of proud that I didn’t pass out, actually,” he mumbles into her hair. She winds her own arms under his, scratching her nails lightly across the flannel of his shirt.

“I still can’t believe you did it,” she admits, breathing in the scent of him as she presses her face against his chest. She’ll never quite get enough of this, the comfort and peace that she finds in his embrace. When he finally pulls away, Stiles gives her a serious look.

“Does it bother you?” She can see the worry flash in his eyes for a moment. He’s come a long way from the mumbling boy he used to be around her, has grown up and filled out, but she knows he still seeks her approval in many of the small ways, even if he doesn’t let on.

“What,” she muses, “that you finally overcame your fear of needles to get a tattoo that matches your best friend’s?”

His eyes narrow slightly, wary.

“No.” He blows out a relieved breath. “Trust me, I knew what I was getting into with the two of you. I mean, you have your own rooms at each other’s houses.” That’s true too. When they moved into this apartment Stiles made it clear they needed to have enough rooms to designate one for the alpha, and they were greeted at Scott and Kira’s new place with a study that doubles as a crash pad for Stiles, separate from their other guestroom. Lydia supposes she should just be lucky that the boys didn’t insist on buying a house together, living there as a foursome.

“We have codependency issues,” Stiles says, unconcerned.

“You do,” she agrees. Her eyes flit back down to the tattoo, still shiny and covered in ointment. Her lips curl into a feline smile. “So,” she tilts her head back, looking up at him. “What are you going to get to represent _me_?”


End file.
